Deathbed Confessions
by Taylor King
Summary: Bellatrix said she didn't have sons...so what if she had a daughter?  How would her actions have affected her child?  Now she's dying...and she has to make that peace.
1. Chapter 1

_Deathbed Confessions_

_I. Consumption_

_Bellatrix and Rosella both learn of her illness_

Bellatrix Lestrange had been lying on the floor of her cell with her cheek pressed against the stones in an attempt to cool the heat that was flushing her already pale face. She'd been sick for sometime. Vaguely, she'd suspected it coming. The guard who always left the food outside their cells had been wheezing, and then coughing and then finally he'd stopped coming. Not long after that, Bellatrix had heard one of the other witches at the end of the cell block coughing. Before long, she'd felt an unusual tingling sensation in her chest, then the cough had started. That had been in the beginning of June, now it was July and the cough had progressed. Then the blood came. At first it was only spray on the palm of her hand, and then it had turned into bright red globs that stained her lips and the already dirty fabric of her robes. Bellatrix wasn't really opposed. She liked blood well enough, and death wasn't one of her greatest fears. If she was sick enough to die, then that was enough for her.

"What's the matter with you, Lestrange?" One of the guards was passing her cell and heard the deep cough. He flashed the lit tip of his wand into the cell and frowned. "Hey Johnston, come here a minute."

"What?" Another guard came down the block, swinging his wand aimlessly, ignoring the sparks it was admitting.

"Look at Lestrange."

"What about her?"

"She looks terrible."

"Yeah, she does. Funny, isn't it? I hear she used to be a real knockout."

"No, Johnston, I think she's sick."

"So what if she is? Death's too good for a murdering Death Eater."

"What if she's contagious? She'll spread whatever it is through the entire prison." The second guard, Johnston, sighed.

"All right, good point. Stay back Lestrange." As if Bellatrix had even tried to move anywhere near the door. The guard slid open the bars and crossed the cell, dragging her to her feet by one arm. "What the-she's bleeding!" He held her away from him. "This was not in my job description!" The guard bound her arms behind her and half dragged her down the hallway. "I should let you take her." Johnston hissed to his partner. "Let her contaminate you with whatever she has."

"Hell no! Keep her away from me!" The first guard used his wand to unlock the door they were heading towards. The guards pulled her down another twisting corridor and then through another door labeled "Medical."

"Hey Chisler!" Johnston called. "Got a patient for you!" The Healer turned.

"Lestrange right?"

"Right."

"What's the matter with her?"

"How the hell should I know? Whatever it is, just keep her away from me." He pushed Bellatrix downed onto a nearby bed, forcing her to sit. Bellatrix coughed and cleared her throat, tasting blood.

"Thank you, Johnston. I'll take it from here." The Healer pushed the guards out of the door and turned to Bellatrix. "Will you fight me if I untie you?" She shook her head no, so he freed her arms and bound her with a freezing charm. "Now what seems to be the problem?" Bellatrix coughed again.

"I've been coughing."

"Anything else?"

"I'm very tired." The Healer nodded.

"Anything else?"

"I don't know." The Healer checked for a fever and examined her briefly. Bellatrix began coughing again and he stepped back. When she finished, she was gasping for breath.

"Are you all right?"

"May I lie down?" Bellatrix closed her eyes.

"Of course." Bellatrix lay back and closed her eyes. The Healer noticed red spots on her hand and pulled it over to examine it. "Where are you bleeding from?" Bellatrix didn't speak. "Lestrange, answer me." She didn't respond. The Healer rolled his eyes. "Are you coughing up blood?"

"Yes." The Healer pursed his lips and got up. There was a knock on the door and the first guard opened the door.

"Can we take her back yet?"

"No, she'll be staying here."

"Is she sick?"

"Looks like it."

"What is it?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well, we're going to have to notify the family. They'll need a diagnosis."

"Put unknown illness and a need for further testing on it-possibly contagious. Do you have to notify…her?"

"Unfortunately," the guard rolled his eyes. "Unless it's changed."

"Doubtful." The Healer flipped through a file. "Who are we to contact in case you die, Lestrange?" Bellatrix was silent. "Look Lestrange, you don't start cooperating and I'll send you back to cell block and let you die there. Now who do we contact?" Bellatrix sighed.

"My daughter." She saw the irritated looks the two men exchanged and almost laughed. Her daughter had made quite a few enemies at Azkaban. The Healer groaned.

"Owl Mrs. Nott. And warn the Ministry we may be looking at another…situation. Since Princess Lestrange is involved, after all." The guard nodded and left. The Healer chuckled and shook his head. "Lestrange, where did you get a daughter like that? From what I hear, she's a right pillar of the community." Bellatrix laughed, but the motion caused her to choke and cough a moment before answering.

"I have _no_ idea."

Bellatrix and Rodolphus had managed to have one daughter: Rosella Bellatrix Lestrange, who was-not surprisingly-stunningly beautiful. She was also, in Bellatrix opinion, as loyal, cheerful and optimistic as a Gryffindor even though she'd been a Slytherian. Bellatrix had spent roughly a year or thereabouts with her daughter before Azkaban and she'd like the baby well enough. Rodolphus's family had prize winning horses that they'd shown and Bellatrix had come to think of the baby in the same manner-a beautiful, charming little thing who everyone fussed over and thought was beautiful. Bellatrix liked that. She really didn't see any other point to children. But as always, Bella's loyalties had lain with the Dark Lord and then came Azkaban. Rosella had gone to the Malfoys to be raised by Lucius and Narcissa and the next time Bellatrix had laid eyes on the girl she was fifteen and just as optimistic as she was today. Somewhere deep in Bella's just-out-of-Azkaban mind, she feared the Dark Lord really would gain power and then she'd be stuck with Rosella. But of course, that hadn't happened. The Dark Lord was now officially dead and no one could doubt that. The Death Eaters had been rounded up and shipped back to Azkaban to waste away.

Rosella still came every month (or, if Bellatrix was lucky, every two months). She rambled an endless monologue of events: she was finished at Hogwarts, she had gotten a job with the ministry doing something in Muggle studies (oh, there was big surprise for Bellatrix), she was getting married, Rodolphus was dead, the list was unending. Bellatrix did everything she could not to listen.

"Why do you come?" Bellatrix asked, exasperatedly, one day when Rosella was preparing to leave.

"Because you're my mother," Rosella smiled cheerfully. "And you need me."

"I don't need you. You don't have to come. Just stay home." Rosella laughed.

"I can't do that, and I won't, so don't ask. I'll see you next month."

Bellatrix cringed when she thought of how Rosella would react when she found out she was ill. Rosella would, of course, come flying into the prison and demand the best for _her_ mother, as if her mother was someone who everyone else should respect. So needless to say, Bellatrix was amazed when days passed and her daughter didn't turn up. During that time, the Healer kept her sedated with a variety of potions and spells while he examined her. Finally, the spells and potions broke enough for her to ask.

"What is it?"

"Consumption."

"What's that?"

"A Muggle illness. It's highly contagious. We've had several guards and prisoners come down with it."

"Can you cure it?"

"Sometimes."

"And in my case?"

"No." Bellatrix smiled.

"My daughter isn't going to like that." The Healer laughed.

"I suppose not."

"How long do I have?"

"A few more months, maybe longer. It's July now, so perhaps another six." Bellatrix nodded.

"Fine." She closed her eyes.

"The guards will be returning you to your cell soon."

"Fine." Bellatrix didn't fight when the guards dragged her up, bound her and pulled her through the corridors to her cell. She was too weak from potions and disease to really care what happened. Once inside, she proceeded to the back corner and began rearranging the old, moth eaten blanket she was given to sleep on. Once she found it suitable, she lay down and closed her eyes. It had barely been five minutes when she heard footsteps and one of the guards rapped his wand on the bars.

"Lestrange! Visitor for you!" Bellatrix groaned and buried her face into her hair. She glanced up into the dim light in the hallway and saw a glimpse of black robes and wide-brimmed black hat. Oh no.

"Oh Mother! I'm so sorry!" Rosella was already talking a mile a minute. "Theo and I were in Spain for two weeks and we _just _got back this morning and I _just _got the prison's owls and I came absolutely as soon as I heard and how are you feeling?"

_Oh no. _Bellatrix pressed her face into the blanket.

"Mother? How are you feeling?"

'I'm fine, Rosella."

"The Healer said you have a Muggle illness."

"I'm sure _you'd _know all about _that_."

"Mother really, I'm not Andromeda."

"You work in that Muggle division at the Ministry." Bellatrix didn't bother to sit up or open her eyes.

"Muggle _history_, Mother. I read poetry and talk about Muggle historical events. And I don't work for the Ministry anymore. I told you that." Of course she had, Bellatrix just hadn't bothered to listen.

"Of course you did, Rosella." Bellatrix sighed. Rosella was silent for a moment, which was a novelty.

"He said it doesn't look good, Mother." There was hesitation in her voice.

"I know that, I can live with that."

"I can't."

"Of course you can't." Bellatrix heard her daughter sigh.

"Mother, I've got an idea." Bellatrix wasn't interested, but she was certain she was about to hear the idea whether she wanted to or not.

"What's that, Rosella?"

"I'm going to appeal to the Ministry to let you out." Bellatrix eyes flew open.

"_Don't you dare._" Bellatrix sat up. "Don't even think that, let alone say it."

"Why not?" Rosella asked. "Mother, you're sick, you should be in a hospital, not prison."

"Rosella, give it up. There isn't anything that can be done. I can accept what's going to happen to me. Now go home and don't think of me." _That _was like asking Rosella to stop breathing.

"I'll do as I like, Mother." Rosella's voice was firm. "Well, I'm sure you're tired so I better be getting home. I'll be back soon."

"Of course you will."

"Goodbye Mother, I love you."

"Go_ home._"


	2. Owls and Aunts

Rosella Lestrange knew exactly what her mother's thoughts of her were, and frankly, she didn't care. While her mother was content to brand the girl a Gryffindor, Rosella knew that only meant her mother had no concept of the person she was.

Rosella had married Theodore Nott after their seventh year of Hogwarts. Nott's family had taken a terrible hit when his father had been imprisoned for his Death Eater activity and Rosella had managed to convince him that if they just waited until they were out of school and had jobs, they'd be fine.

Rosella had been first in her class, tying only with Hermione Granger. With grades like that, she was assured any job she wanted so long as she kept the fact that she was Lucius Malfoy's niece, as well as Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange's daughter quiet. Several people, including Harry Potter himself, had tried to convince her to become an Auror. Rosella had considered the idea briefly, but decided she couldn't visit her mother in Azkaban and then go back to her life as a Dark Wizard Catcher. She simply couldn't live with herself.

After half a dozen interviews with the Ministry, she'd been give the job in Muggle Studies for two reasons: 1. The witch who interviewed her was so amazed that the Lestrange heiress had actually bothered to interview in Muggle Studies that she hired her on the spot and 2. She was Andromeda Tonks niece. It was the one and only time in her life that her name had helped her. Theo was not as smart and his grades had shown that. But he did like numbers and had landed a good job with the Ministry's Financial Department.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus had written their will so Rosella inherited their portion of the Lestrange estate when she turned 17, so long as they were either dead or in Azkaban. When her Grandmother Lestrange had died two years later, this left Rosella with two houses, a summer cottage and two sizeable vaults at Gringots. This was plenty for the two young people to settle down and live off of their own salaries while saving the Lestrange Family Fortune for when they needed it. It also gave them the opportunity to support Theo's little sister, who was a fourth year at Hogwarts.

Mrs. Nott wasn't sure she'd be able to pay any of the basic household expenses, let alone buy new school books, supplies and robes. Rosella simply couldn't stand the idea of another girl growing up with damage of her family being ruined by Death Eater parents. With Rosella and Theo's help, they were keeping her in fashionable robes, half decent books and whatever item was the must have in the wizarding community that season. Keiara certainly looked better than any Weasley Rosella had ever known.

Rosella apparated herself back to the lawn of the sprawling manor where her father had raised his prize Pegasus and racing stallions and where her mother had-well, whatever it was that Bellatrix had done before she'd gone completely insane. As she opened the door to the front hallway, the two portraits that had been dozing snapped to life.

"Rosella, where have you been? Gone for two weeks and then home an hour and gone again. There must be a half a dozen owls in the parlor for you. How do you expect to run a household if you're never home?" Her Grandmother Lestrange demanded from her portrait.

"Maquita, give the girl a break. She's a very busy young lady." Her Grandfather Lestrange's portrait attempted to go back to sleep.

"I'm sorry Grandmother, I had to go to Azkaban. My mother's ill." Rosella took off her hat and let down her thick, shining dark hair.

"What's that?" Her Grandmother Black's portrait spoke up from the other side of the hall. "Did you say Bellatrix is ill?"

"Yes Grandmother, very ill. The Healer thinks she won't live another year."

"Serves her right!" Her Grandfather Black's portrait announced. "I didn't raise that girl to be a murderer! I taught her to be a good pure blood yes, but not any murderer!" Rosella rolled her eyes.

As trying as these portraits were, they were nothing compared to the ones of her mother and father. Her father's portrait spent all of his time berating Rosella for her drinking habits and for the fact that she had married someone as low as a Nott. Her mother continually badgered her about her appearance, wondering how she could go about looking like some common harlot.

"I gave you that beauty!" The portrait had hissed. "Perhaps you should spend a few weeks in Azkaban in order to appreciate it!" Rosella took pride in the fact that she drew her gorgeous appearance from her mother. Whenever someone told her how she resembled Bellatrix in appearance or temperament, Rosella's heart thrummed with pride.

However, the portraits were driving Theo crazy. He grew increasingly tired of her father continually telling him to get out of his house or that Nott was simply not good enough for his daughter. Finally, Theo had laid it out: either the portraits moved out of the house or he did. Rosella had happily placed the paintings under a sheet in the attic. She also knew, however, that there was no way she would ever be able to hang them again without a continuous stream of complaints.

Ignoring the bickering paintings, Rosella let herself into the parlor and found, as her grandmother had promised, a stack of owls. She shifted them around, ignoring the letters that looked too formal. After four years, Rosella had grown tired of working for the Ministry and quit. She had been the modern young woman with a job and now she wanted to be more like her Aunt Narcissa, a lovely purebred who stayed home and planned elegant dinners for charity instead of going to work daily. Rosella was relived when she came up with a letter that was addressed in Pansy Parkinson's handwriting. Tearing it open she read:

_Rosella, Dah-ling!_

_So happy to hear you and Theo are back in the country. I'm simply dying to hear all about Spain. Would you be so kind as to join us for a little party at The Flaming Broomstick _(named for its signature drink, of course) _around 8:30? Owl me! _

_-Pansy_

Rosella smiled. After her day at Azkaban, she was highly in the mood for one of Pansy's parties. A party with her friend could mean anything from strawberries/champagne and cocaine to margaritas and marijuana. Rosella really didn't care which it was at this point. She pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote:

_Pansy:_

_Sounds marvelous! Lovely trip, miserable first day home! Can't wait to see you! What type of party are you planning? Kisses to Blaise! _

_-Rosella_

She folded the parchment and tied it to one of her owls and sent it out of the window. She picked up another parchment with the Malfoy crest on it and was unable to determine if it was from her Cousin Draco or her Aunt Narcissa. Tearing it open she read:

_Rosa,_

_Are you going to be joining Pansy tonight? Please go! I must get out of the house for an evening! _

_-DM_

Rosella laughed. Her cousin had married Ginny Weasley about a year ago and so far, he didn't seem to be enjoying it. Rosella thought what it had been about Weasley that had made her cousin so anxious to marry the girl. She decided it had something to do with Weasley's red hair and large breasts. Another letter appeared with the Malfoy crest and Rosella opened that one, expecting Draco again.

_Rosa,_

_Owl me as soon as you can, I've heard some rumors I thought you could clarify for me. _

_Love,_

_Your Aunt _

Rosella suspected she knew what her aunt wanted. She took out two pieces of parchment and wrote:

_Draco: _

_Yes, we'll be there! See you tonight!_

_-RBL_

and:

_Aunt Narcissa:_

_I suspect I know your question. Come over, it's probably best you hear it from me. I'll be here until about 8:30. _

_-Rosella_

The other letters contained a form from Azkaban she was obligated to sign and return stating she'd visited the prison and made it home safely. This was a new rule, after Vincent Crabbe had gone to visit his father and was later found strangled to death by Charles Jugson. She scribbled her name on the letter and wrote a quick note to Theo, who had run into the office, to go to the Flaming Broomstick that evening and sent the two of them off on her second owl. Her first owl was just returning with Pansy's reply.

"Just a moment," Rosella took the parchment from its leg. "Let me read this." The letter read:

_Rosa:_

_Stunning! I hadn't decided on the theme yet. Any thoughts? _

_-P_

Rosella wrote:

_Pansy:_

_What drug goes well with wine? _

_-RBL_

She sent the letters on their way and had just settled down when she heard an apparation crack behind her.

"Hello, Aunt Narcissa." She said without turning around.

"How did you know?" Narcissa kissed her niece's cheek.

"You're the only one who expressed an important interest in catching up with me before dark. I just sent you an owl. It'll be there when you get home."

"I'll look for it. How was Spain?"

"Lovely, I could have stayed forever. I probably should have, given what I came home to." Rosella picked up an envelope. "See for yourself. I'm sure it's the rumors you've heard." Narcissa looked at the Azkaban seal on the front.

"It is, it is." She pulled the letter out of the envelope and scanned the parchment. "Unknown illness, possibly contagious. I assume you went out this morning?"

"As soon as I saw the letter. Let me tell you, I cringed when I saw that seal. I was certain they were going to tell me there'd been another break out."

"Well, that's bad enough for you but worse for me. It'd be my doorstep she'd turn up on. Did you see her? How is she?"

"I saw her, but the news isn't good." Rosella sighed and looked at her aunt. "Aunt Narcissa, the Healer thinks she'll die within six months." Narcissa Malfoy closed her eyes for a moment. She took a deep breath and looked at her niece.

"What does she have?"

"It's called consumption. The Muggles carry it." The two exchanged a look that clearly said that this proved just how dirty Muggles were and how they should be kept away from the wizarding society. But there wasn't any use in saying it, there wasn't anything that could be done now. Rosella raised an eyebrow. "I have an idea though."

"What's that?"

"First thing tomorrow morning, I'm going to Minister Scrimgeour and appeal for her release." Narcissa shook her head.

"You can't be serious."

"Well why not? Aunt Narcissa, she's old and she's sick. How much harm can she do? Besides, she's only got a few months left to live. Don't you think she ought to be in hospital?"

"Well, yes, but-."

"I can't live with the idea that my sick mother is dying in a cold, damp cell." Narcissa sighed.

"Rosella, it's a very nice idea. But I'm not sure the Ministry will agree."

"I have to at least try."

"Of course you do." Narcissa sighed. "You're a good daughter, Rosella."

"I wish my mother thought so."

"How did she look?"

"I don't know, she always stays in the shadows where I can't get a good look. But she's lost so much weight. I think she'd be dead by now if she hadn't been out for a few years and gained a little strength back." Rosella twirled her hair. "It frightens me how much she hates me. Me, her own daughter."

"She doesn't hate you," Narcissa smiled.

"Oh really?" Rosella scoffed. Narcissa sighed heavily.

"She-. She was-. She always-. She _tried_, Rosella, really she did. I've never seen her try so hard. She wanted to be a good mother, really she did."

"What do you think it would have been like, if the Dark Lord had taken power?" Rosella asked, leaning back in her chair. Narcissa shook her head.

"I don't think it would have been anything spectacular. She would have spent all her time pillaging and murdering or whatever it was that she did. Now if she had kept herself out of Azkaban, that would have been the mother you wanted."

"Ha ha! Right!" Rosella laughed. "Please, Aunt Narcissa, had the Dark Lord truly been defeated, my parents would have developed a drug habit worse than mine."

"I suppose so," Narcissa had to admit her niece was right. "Your father-."

"I know, I know." Rosella shook her head in disgust. "I'm sure Azkaban was quite a shock to his drug addiction. But you were the mother I wanted," She looked over at her aunt and smiled. Narcissa laughed.

"I appreciate that, Rosa. But you were always your mother's daughter. If she'd been released before you were a teenager, or even been able to stay out at the time, you would have abandoned me for her. I always knew that. Your uncle did too."

"It would have been a mistake," Rosella's tone was bitter as she turned to stare out of the window. "She still would have hated me."

"She doesn't hate you. Rosa, you know how fanatical your mother always was. When the Dark Lord was finally defeated, she just stopped caring. You remember she gave up almost willingly, that's about the only thing that spared her from the Kiss."

"They didn't Kiss her, or Father, because I paid the Ministry not to." Rosella stared out the window, her voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh," Narcissa sighed.

"That's part of the problem." Rosella unhooked her barrette from her hair and tossed out her thick black waves. "Mother can't respect the life I've created for myself."

"Well, your uncle did teach you that money could buy you out of almost any situation."

"Money is about all I was left with." Rosella got out of her chair and went to push open the window. "The Lestrange name is worthless. Therefore I had to use money."

"And yet you keep it." Narcissa came to stand beside her. "You're married now, you should be a Nott."

"I like being a Lestrange." Rosella didn't turn to look at her aunt. "It's my name, my Father's name. And while no one else might, I still respect it." Narcissa smiled, reaching out to stroke her hair.

"You're a smart girl, Rosa. You always have been. I respect the decisions you've made, and I know that can't make up for the approval you've always sought from your mother, but I'm proud of you." Narcissa leaned over to kiss the young woman's cheek. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, Aunt Narcissa. I'll owl you when I know something."

"Thank you, Darling. And give your mother my best."

"Of course."


	3. Drinks and Decisions

Rosella opened the door to The Flaming Broomstick only to be greeted by the scent of incense. She let the heavy wood fall closed behind her as she started through the candlelit room.

The room was dark-that was the only way to describe it. The walls, tables, chairs and floor were all made of heavy oak that sucked in the light. The bar was a long rectangle cut into one wall through which it seemed witches and wizards were constantly apparating. Each table had one small candle in a red glass jar placed in the center. The candles emitted only a dim circle of light, making it possible to just barely see the person seated next to you. Despite the large room, six candelabras spaced about eight feet apart held three burning candles (despite the fact that they were made for six), giving the room a faint glow so the patrons could at least find the outline of the room.

Rosella strolled across the floor. Despite the fact that there were several other patrons lurking in the darkness, the sounds of her high heeled knee boots was the only noise. She liked the way her short, black robes swayed around her knees, falling just barely above the tops of her boots. Her hair and clothing made her blend into the shadows, keeping her haunting appearance alive.

As she approached the far back left hand corner, she could see in the candle's glow Pansy, along with Blaise Zambini and Gregory Goyle, was seated around a glowing green bottle.

"Rosa!" Pansy smiled up at her. The other woman reached for a glass and poured some of the glowing liquid into it. "Have a drink."

"Absinthe," Rosella smiled, taking the glass. "Devine." She took a long drink.

"Don't know why we're wasting our time with that," Blaise said sulkily. "Don't have to hallucinate to see green fairies."

"I hate green fairies." Rosella winked. "What's new?"

"We should be asking you that." Pansy poured herself another drink. "How was Spain?"

"Marvelous," Rosella kept sipping at her glass. "I should have stayed, what a miserable homecoming I received."

"Oh what happened, darling?" Pansy purred. She tapped her wand against Goyle's glass, making the liquid glow brighter.

"Probably something to do with that letter from Azkaban she had waiting for her," Theo suddenly appeared in the darkness in the chair beside Rosella. "Hello dear." He kissed her cheek. "Dare I ask?"

His question was interrupted by a sudden pop. Draco apparated to the table at Rosella's opposite side.

"What a dreadful day!" He spat, yanking a chair out from the table. "Such an awful, awful day!" He dropped down at the table and reached for a glass.

"Bad day, Draco?" Pansy poured the absinthe. The others snickered.

"Seems to be a lot of that going around." Having grown up with her cousin, Rosella knew his mood swings. Draco cared little for anyone else's problems but his own. Typically, his tantrums had worked on his mother. Rosella had always been amazed at how they hadn't worked on father-when it was him Draco had learned the trick from!

"Did you spend all day with Molly Weasley and her ten screaming grandbabies? Did you have to try and work with Fred and George rigging various exploding jokes in your den? Did you then have their mother following them around shooting spells at them? No, I doubt it. I hate my mother-in-law! There is nothing worse than dealing with her. "

"Mine's in Azkaban serving a life sentence for murder, beat that." Theo became frequently exhausted with his wife's cousin complaining about every little problem. Draco wasn't the only one whose father had died in prison.

"Speaking of which," Rosella dug in her handbag for a cigarette, "back to my original story."

"Of course, what happened?" Pansy ignored Draco. Truthfully, the girl had no use for Malfoy ever since he'd left her for Ginny Weasley. Rosella suspected both were still bitter about it.

The Lestrange heiress made the table wait as she lit her cigarette. Maybe it was the magic, or the absinthe, but the flame that omitted from her wand was green.

"Azkaban owled me." Rosella blew lavender smoke rings into the air. "My mother's ill. She's dying." There was silence around the table.

"I'm sorry, darling." Theo reached for her hand.

"It's happened to so many of us," Goyle shook his head. It was the first time he'd spoken all evening.

"Not for me," Rosella stared at the table, bringing her hand away from her husband's. "It won't happen to my mother."

"Rosa," Theo murmured.

"No," Rosella raised her head triumphantly. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the Minister's Office. I'm going to appeal to him to release her to me, so that she doesn't die in prison." Again, there was silence.

"Rosella," Pansy began gently, "your mother was-." Rosella raised an eyebrow, daring the other woman to keep speaking. "She was the greatest Dark Witch whoever lived."

"Say that a bit louder," Rosella looked over her shoulder, observing the room. "Please."

"Rosa, I'm serious. For Slytherians, she's a role model. But to the Ministry, they're never going to agree with it. You know that! She's a-."

"Death Eater, murderer, yes, yes, I know." Rosella snuffed out her cigarette on the table before using the tip of her wand to remove the burn mark. "But she's my mother. She's the only mother I've ever known."

"But you didn't know her," Pansy continued. "Your aunt-."

"Raised me, yes, but I knew she wasn't my mother. I'm going to try. And no one will talk me out of it." She gave the others a daring look, challenging them to argue with her. Goyle glued his eyes to the table top. Blaise turned his head to stare off into the dark room. Draco cleared his throat and glanced nervously at Pansy. Pansy reached for the Absinthe. Only Theo glanced at her.

"She has her mind made up." He shrugged. "Rosella will do what Rosella wants to do. We all know that. But come now, let's have a bit more, shall we?" He reached for the bottle.

"Precisely!" Pansy was obviously thrilled to drop the current topic. She took the bottle back from Theo and grabbed Rosella's glass. "Have another drink, my dear." She sang softly, smiling smugly at the woman across from her. "Let's see how far down the rabbit hole the elixir will take us." She hurried to refill everyone's glasses. "Come, come!" She raised her glass. "To us,' she glanced at her companions, "the Children of the Revolution."

"That we are," Rosella murmured, taking a drink. She stared at the glass bottle. A green fairy was etched in the frost glass. It flew from side to side, fluttering its wings. The others faded away around her. Rosella raised her wand and pointed it at the bottle.

_"Crucio,"_ she whispered. The alcohol in the bottle began to bubble and boil until Rosella lowered her wand.

She was a Black and a Lestrange, the combination of both could be deadly. So by using it, she could achieve anything.

"Are you sure?" Theo asked when they had apparated into the front hall. "Really sure?"

Green fairies were flying all around her husband's head. The frames on the paintings raced. Rosella smiled.

"I'm sure, Theo."

"I know how you feel, Rosa. My father died there too." His voice was breathy, like he'd just run for miles. "I would have done anything I could to help him…but there wasn't anything to do. And there was a chance with my father."

"There could be a chance with my mother too….and I have to know." Rosella kissed his lips. At least she thought she did.

"I don't want you to be upset when…."

"It's darkest right before it goes completely black, Theo. I've already seen it go completely black. I'm ready."


	4. Peace Treaties in the Name of Family

First thing in the morning, Rosella went straight to Minister Scrimgour's office (despite the fact that she was slightly hung over). Letting herself casually into the Minister's lobby, she smiled broadly at the witch behind the reception desk.

"Could you be so kind as to tell Minister Scimgour Mrs. Lestrange is here to seem him?" The witch smiled patiently.

"The Minister is in with someone right now, can you wait?"

"Do tell him, he'll see me." Scrimgour had always made time for Rosella. Why, she wasn't really sure, but he always had. He'd taken over as Minister when she was sixteen and presided over her parents rearrest. He'd listened calmly when she'd accused the Aurors of murdering her father and apologized when the prison had dismissed her claim. Now the witch immerged from Scrimgour's office followed by a small mousy looking man. He tipped his hat to the receptionist and shot Rosella an irritated look.

"You may go in," the witch said hesitantly. Rosella entered the office.

"Good morning, Minister."

"Good morning, Mrs. Lestrange. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Scrimgour shook her hand over the desk and then motioned her to sit across from him. Rosella sat, tossing her thick hair over her shoulders. "I haven't seen you in awhile. What's it been since your father died?"

"It's been seven years since he was murdered." Scrimgour chuckled.

"It was only an accident, Mrs. Lestrange."

"An accident, yes, of course. Ceilings always cave in on the cells of Death Eaters."

"The evidence showed it was only an accident."

"The evidence your prison staff wanted my lawyers to find showed an accident." Scrimgour leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers.

"Mrs. Lestrange, surely you didn't come over here just to relive your father's death?"

"No, today I'm here about my mother."

"Oh? What of her?"

"Well, you've undoubtedly heard that she's ill."

"I did see a memo on that. I'm very sorry."

"Perhaps you can help me."

"What can I do?"

"Get her out of prison." Scrimgour raised an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. She's old, and she's sick. She won't last a month in that prison."

"Mrs. Lestrange, your mother is serving a life sentence. If she dies in prison, that is the point." Rosella rolled her eyes.

"As I well know, Minister. But she needs to be in a hospital, not prison. She needs medical treatment."

"She can get that in prison."

"But the Healers in Azakaban are some of the worst in our community!"

"That is not true, they are just as qualified as the rest."

"That's a lie and you know it. I've seen the records, Healer McPhee failed Charms when he was at Hogwarts." Scrimgour opened his mouth. "I've seen the records, Minister, and I can get them. If you'd provide me with an owl, I can have them here momentarily."

"Mrs. Lestrange, there are much better ways to achieve your goals without resorting to blackmail."

"Well, you seem to be less than interested in helping me." Scrimgour got up and went to the window.

"I'm not opposed to helping you, Mrs. Lestrange. But it is not solely up to me to decide. Your request must be voted on by the prison board."

"Then you will help me?" Rosella got up. "Please, Minister, I can't live with myself if my mother dies in prison. She needs help now." Scrimgour looked back at her.

"Do you even begin to understand the havoc your mother wrecked on the wizarding community?"

"I do. She ruined my life above all else-which people seem to casually forget. Minister Scrimgour, I know my mother is getting what she deserves, but she's an old woman now, how much damage can she do?"

"I am afraid to imagine. Your mother is a murderer, Lestrange. There's no way of knowing an exact number either. I don't need to remind you of what she did to her own cousin, and let's not mention the poor Longbottoms."

"You don't have any proof she did that!"

"She never denied it."

"She never denied the Dark Lord, it doesn't mean she tortured the Longbottoms into insanity."

"Do you honestly believe she didn't?" Scrimgour rolled his eyes at Rosella.

"No," Rosella looked away. "But it doesn't matter now."

"Well then, pray tell, what does matter?" Rosella drew a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to keep her temper.

"She's sick, Minister. And whether anyone else in this community wants to believe it or not, she's my mother. I want to help her." Scrimgour smiled.

"I admire your loyalty, Mrs. Lestrange. It's vaguely similar to the loyalty your mother showed Lord Voldemort. And we see how far that got her."

"At least mine's legal," Rosella sniffed. Scrimgour laughed.

"I've always respected you, Mrs. Lestrange. You handled yourself well after everything your parents put you through. And you've always been a good, intelligent young lady. So in that case I'll be willing to support your cause."

"Really?" Rosella's head spun to face Scrimgour.

"Yes, yes, with a few conditions of course."

"Of course."

"Number one, your mother will be released into your care. Unless there comes a time when she is too ill for you to manage, at which time you will take her to the terminal ward at St. Mungo's."

"Only fair," Rosella shrugged.

"Number two, she must remain within your estate, or within its grounds. Unless, of course, she is leaving for an approved reason and with the property security escorts." Rosella sighed.

"A bit extreme for a dying woman, don't you think?"

"Nothing is too extreme when we are dealing with Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Fair enough."

"Good. And number three, she will use no magic whatsoever and she will not possess any wand or potion or other charm that would allow her to do so." Rosella inhaled slowly, and then exhaled.

"Agreed."

"Good, good." Scrimgour left the window and returned to his desk. He beckoned Rosella back into the chair across from him. "Now," he began rifling through some paperwork. "I will begin the necessary documents for a Release for Medical Conditions Purpose. I suppose I will also fill out the necessary Pardon documents, but I doubt there will be any possibility of that being granted."

"Pardon documents?"

"A Pardon would be rendering her innocent of her crimes. I assure you, there is no one who will want to see that." Rosella had to agree on that one.

"Is that all then?"

"I'll need you to attend the prison board meeting at the end of the month."

"And I can see her before then?"

"I'll give you an hour a day with her, if you wish, given her condition."

"I appreciate that."

"There is one other task I would ask on your part."

"Anything." Scrimgour smirked.

"We will need the approval of some of her victims, or their families. Since there is no way to positively identify all of them, we will have to go with the most obvious."

"Neville Longbottom and his grandmother." Rosella sighed heavily.

"Precisely, or more accurately, Neville himself. He's an adult now and their next of kin. You'll need to get his approval of her release."

"What if he doesn't approve?" Rosella asked, suddenly nervous. She hadn't thought of victim's approval.

"Then there isn't much I can do." Scrimgour smiled. "I can't go against an innocent young man's wishes to release a murdering, evil-."

"I get the point." Rosella said, sharply. "If that's all, Minister?"

"It is, I'll owl you if there is anything else I should need."

"Good," Rosella got up. "Thank you very much, Minister."

"A pleasure to be of service, Mrs. Lestrange." Scrimgour shook her hand. "Have a good day, Mrs. Lestrange."

"And you as well," Rosella smiled and left the office. Once she had stepped out into Diagon Alley, she ran her hands over her face from the bright sunlight. She hadn't counted on having to address Neville Longbottom directly. The two had been the same year at Hogwarts, but nowhere near the same company. She'd kept to her cousin and other Syltherian friends while he'd hung around after Potter. Rosella rolled her eyes at the thought. She'd always felt a bizarre connection to Longbottom. Both of their lives had been destroyed by the same people, after all. Rosella started off down the street, trying to convince herself that she was only going to Blackbeck's for a cup of tea, but she was soon standing on the street corner facing the apothecary. Longbottom ran the shop now, he'd inherited his family's estate the way she had. It was funny, really, to grow up without your parents and think your life was so awful only to become an adult and come into more money than your friends would earn in ten years. Sighing, Rosella crossed the street and pulled the door open.

As she entered, an owl seated on a perch clipped loudly at her.

"Just a moment!" A voice from the back of the store called.

"No hurry," Rosella murmured as she reached for a bottle of potion that declared it would make your finger nails grow six inches longer in one week. "Who needs that?"

"Now, what can I….do..for…?" Rosella glanced up to see Neville Longbottom standing in front of her. "Oh, er, Rosella. I wasn't expecting to see you. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you Neville. And you?"

"Very well, can I help you with something?"

"Um, yes, do you have anything for Muggle ailments?"

"Oh yes, we've a whole section on them." Longbottom motioned her to follow him. "See?" He motioned to a section of the shelves. "There's something for everything. Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Do you have anything for Consumption?"

"Consumption…Consumption….hhhmm, I don't see it. Does it have another name?"

"It might be under Tuberculosis."

"Tuberculosis, ah yes, here we are. And look, it says right under it, "Consumption"." Neville smiled and handed Rosella the bottle. "Is that all?"

"Well, not really." Rosella followed Neville back towards the counter. "I've a favor to ask of you."

"A favor? What could you want with me?"

"Well, it's not so easy to ask." Rosella place the bottle and several gold pieces on the counter. "I need your help."

"With what?"

"It's about my mother." Neville paused with his hand over the gold pieces.

"Why should I do anything to help your mother?"

"Because you're a decent wizard, and because she's sick."

"Decency means nothing to your mother."

"That's not the point." Rosella slipped the bottle into her pocket. "Neville, she's dying, she has Consumption. She doesn't have much time left, I want her released from Azkaban."

"You can't be serious." Neville stared at Rosella. "Your mother is a murderer."

"I know that." Rosella sighed. "But she's my mother, Neville."

"And she ruined your life like she ruined mine. If I were you, I'd let her die in prison."

"Would you really?" Rosella raised her eyebrows. "Would you really, Longbottom? It's funny you should say that, being a Gryffindor and all. And here I stand, a Slytherian, pleading for compassion. Doesn't make sense, does it?"

"You know my point. She drove my parents insane. I spent my childhood visiting them in the hospital. Do you know what that's like for a child?"

"I imagine I do, since mine were in prison. Granted my uncle wouldn't let me visit them, but I endured enough from the rest of society. Do _you _know its like to have constant whispers behind your back? To have people cringe when they see you because they think you are your mother?" Neville shook his head.

"I know it wasn't easy for you either."

"Then don't do this for her, do this for me!" Rosella placed her hand on his arm. 'I need to do this for myself as much as for her. I can't live with the idea of my mother suffering and dying in prison. Please, Neville, at least think about it, for me?"

"What would I have to do?" Neville eyed Rosella suspiciously.

"I'd need you to come to the prison board meeting at the end of the month and tell them you don't mind her being released." Rosella looked up at him. "Then you don't mind? You'll do it?"

"I didn't say that." Neville sighed. "But I'll at least think about it."

"I guess that's the best I could hope for." Rosella forced herself to smile. "I appreciate you not saying no." Longbottom rolled his eyes and turned away.

"I didn't agree to anything. But I'll at least consider it." Rosella smiled.

"I do appreciate that, more than you would know."

"Yes, yes," Neville sighed absently.

"Goodbye, Neville." Rosella smiled.

"Goodbye, Rosella."


	5. Victory is MineLet's All Hope

Rosella was leaning against the bars of the cell. In the back corner, Bellatrix was ignoring her. The only reaction was the soft sounds of her coughing and occasionally clearing her throat.

"The Aurors said you could come. They felt it was only right." Bellatrix coughed, only her back moving. "Come on, Mother, aren't you interested in what the Board says?" Not a sound. "Mother!"

"Why should I come?" Bellatrix finally responded. "So I can tell them to leave me here? Ruin your perfect little fantasy?" Rosella rolled her eyes.

"Why do you want to stay here?"

"Because I don't care."

"Why not?"

"Why should I?" Rosella shook her head.

"The hearing starts in ten minutes, if you want to go, I'll tell the Aurors."

"I don't want to go."

"Fine then, stay here."

"I fully intended on it." Rosella pressed her hand against the bars.

"Mother-."

"What?!" Rosella shook her head.

"Nothing," she muttered, and turned to retreat down the hallway. At the end of the hall, an Auror opened the door. "Take me to the board room." He nodded.

"This way." He led her away from the cell blocks, through the main entry way and to the other side of the building. Opening two large oak doors, he motioned her inside and closed the door. Scrimgour looked up.

"Ah, Mrs. Lestrange, do come in."

"Thank you, Minister." Rosella smiled and glanced over the rest of the Board.

"Won't you sit down?" Scrimgour motioned to a chair across from the table. Rosella sat down and face the seven board members. From reading the prison rules of Azkaban, Rosella had learned that she needed a simple majority to get someone released. It wouldn't be hard getting Scrimgour to side with her, and she suspected Cornelius Fudge, Dolores Umbridge and Amos Diggory would vote with him. She was almost convinced she could sway Lavendar Brown. It was Hermione Granger-Potter and Percy Weasley who scared her the most.

"Rosella Lestrange Nott?" Umbridge read the parchment in front of her. "Why, I haven't seen you since you were about fifteen."

"That's when it would have been." Rosella smiled sweetly. "You were my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." Umbridge shook her head.

"I heard you ended up with the Ministry, why did you leave? You were doing so well."

"I wanted to be more household oriented." Rosella smiled. "It wasn't that I didn't enjoy working, I was just more interested in setting up a household."

"Well, there's certainly nothing wrong with that." Umbridge beamed. "You're young, you've plenty of time to work." Rosella felt more confident, but glanced down at Hermione and fought back a shudder at the woman's harsh glare.

"Well, let's get on with it, shall we?" Scrimgour looked at her. "Our main issue today is Mrs. Lestrange's petition to release her mother, Bellatrix Lestrange, for medical purposes."

"Bellatrix Lestrange?" Umbridge flipped through her various pieces of parchment. "A proclaimed Death Eater, suspected murderer, and convinced of torturing an Auror." Umbridge looked up at Rosella. "And you want her released?"

"Yes," Rosella nodded calmly. "She's aging, she's very sick, she doesn't have much time left and she'd do better with access to medical care."

"She has access to medical care," Hermione stated, glaring irritably at Rosella as though she were wasting Hermione's personal time. Rosella glanced at Scrimgour.

"My lawyers have proof of the quality of medical care in Azkaban prison." Rosella raised an eyebrow knowingly, glancing at the various board members.

"Your mother's a danger to society." Percy Weasley leaned back in his chair, folded his hands and looked at Rosella matter-of-factly.

"She doesn't have the strength for that anymore!" Rosella said earnestly. "She's dying! Her lungs are failing her. And besides, she's given up. She doesn't care if she dies."

"Then why bother to release her if she doesn't even want to be?" Amos Diggory asked.

"Because it would do her good." Rosella crossed her legs and fingered the embroidery on her black velvet robes.

"But she isn't worried about what's good for her." Diggory retorted.

"She's, well," Rosella looked away, "she's not right. She never has been. And her life was always devoted to the Dark Lord, and with him gone, she's got nothing to live for."

"And you want to take on a woman who is a known killer and doesn't care about her own life?" Fudge looked as though it was Rosella who wasn't right.

"Yes." Rosella said calmly.

"Why's that?" Lavender wanted to know.

"Because she's my mother." Rosella said. "And despite what the wizarding world has said, she always has been. I want her with me. And I can't stand the idea of her suffering and dying in a prison cell."

"There would be conditions to the elder Mrs. Lestrange's release." Scrimgour told the rest of the Board. "Mrs. Lestrange wouldn't be permitted to use magic of any type, she would be resigned to her daughter's care and she would not be able to leave the Lestrange estate without proper escorts."

"Well," Umbridge looked at Rosella, then at the other members. "Mrs. Nott's motives are noble enough, but I'm afraid we can't permit this to go any further without at least notifying the Longbottoms."

"I did," Rosella added quickly.

"Oh, you did? And what did they think of this plan?"

"Well, I only talked to Neville, and he said he'd think about it. I told him about today's hearing, but I haven't heard anything from him yet."

"I think he's given his answer," Hermione smirked. Rosella sighed.

"If we don't have a definite answer from Mr. Longbottom, we'll have to hold off another month on our decision." Umbridge looked at the others. All except Scrimgour nodded.

"Wait, you can't!" Rosella gasped. "Another month in this place will make her worse! She could die in that time!"

"It appears we will have to take that chance." Fudge shrugged.

"Wait, just a moment," Rosella heard the door open behind her and turned to glance back. Neville Longbottom stood in the doorway. "Am I late?"

"No, not at all, Mr. Longbottom." Scrimgour motioned him into the room. "Please, sit down beside Mrs. Lestrange." Longbottom crossed the room and sat in the chair to Rosella's right. "So, Mr. Longbottom, you did decide to attend."

"I almost didn't." Longbottom looked at the board members. "But I felt my opinion would be valued."

"You're very right," Fudge looked at Longbottom intently. "How do you feel about Mrs. Nott's request?"

"Well, at first I was opposed." Longbottom looked at Rosella. "But then I thought about it, and I want to be a better person then Bellatrix Lestrange. I don't want to see anyone suffer the way I did, or the way my parents did. If I can do something to stop that, I will."

"Then you don't object to what she wants to do?" Hermione was looking at Neville but motioning to Rosella irritably.

"Well, I'm not thrilled about it, and I'll be angry if someone else gets hurt, but I'll take the chance."

"Why?" Weasley asked.

"Because I trust Rosella." Rosella gave Neville a shocked look. Neville set his jaw and looked straight ahead. "She's smart, she always has been, and she's not like her mother."

"Thank you." Rosella couldn't hide her amazement.

"Well," Diggory put his hands on the table and looked about. "If Mr. Longbottom is here and he doesn't object, I suppose we better vote."

"Indeed." Scrimgour leaned back and looked at those around. "Now you know, Mrs. Lestrange, we'll need a unanimous vote in order for this petition to pass."

"Unanimous?" Rosella exclaimed. "I thought it was only a simple majority!"

"No, no. That depends on the prisoner. In your mother's case, a unanimous vote is required." Rosella swallowed and slumped dejectedly back in her chair. There would be no way of convincing everyone on this board of voting in her favor. "All those in favor of releasing Bellatrix Lestrange from Azkaban due to deteriorating health conditions, raise your hands." Scrimgour raised his hand, as did Fudge, Diggory, Umbridge and Lavender. "Very good," Scrimgour looked at Hermione and Percy. "Mr. Weasley? Mrs. Potter?" Weasley sighed and gradually raised his hand and then put it back down. "Was that a yes or a no, Mr. Weasley?"

"A yes, it was a yes." Percy shook his head in disgust.

"Well, then, Mrs. Potter, it's up to you." Scrimgour motioned to Hermione. "The decision rests in your hand." Rosella groaned and closed her eyes. When she looked up, Hermione was staring at her.

"Your mother murdered my husband's Godfather."

"Ex husband, and he was my second cousin as well."

"That doesn't matter to you."

"So why should your ex husband's Godfather matter to you?" Rosella exclaimed. "If I can forgive my mother for abandoning me and getting herself sent to Azkaban, then you don't have any business talking." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"This isn't your fight," Longbottom spoke up. "Hermione, I understand your position, but really, are you spiteful to Rosella because of her mother, or because of the hostility you had towards her at school?" Hermione looked defeated and angrily raised her hand. Rosella gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth.

"Well, that settles it." Scrimgour picked up a quill and wrote his name on a piece of parchment. "Congratulations, Mrs. Lestrange, you have won this fight."

"Thank you," Rosella stammered, not actually realizing what had just happened.

"Don't make us regret this." Hermione spat. Rosella opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as Longbottom got out of his chair to leave.

"Neville, wait!" Rosella got up and met him at the door. "Thank you, thank you so much." Neville looked away.

"You're welcome." He sighed. "I did the same thing to my dad after my mum died. I know what it's like." Rosella smiled.

"You've no idea what this means to me."

"I do," Neville nodded. "Just…be careful, all right?"

"I'm not afraid of her," Rosella shook her head; "I'm the one person in this community who isn't."

"Well," Scrimgour got up. "I'm prepared to release your mother to you right now, if you like." Rosella nodded.

"Yes, I was hoping you would."

"You'll have to use a portkey home, I can't allow apparition in this case."

"Understood," Rosella nodded. "Thank you!" She turned back to the other board members before following Scrimgour out of the door. Back in the cell block, Rosella rushed to the cell bars. "Mother!" There was silence, Bellatrix was still unmoving in the back corner. "Mother, you won't believe it!" Silence again, and then Bellatrix stirred slightly.

"Tell me you didn't."

"I did! Mother, they're letting you go!" Bellatrix turned onto her back.

"What did you do!" She sat up. "I told you-."

"It doesn't matter now," Scrimgour lifted the charm on the bars with his wand. "You're free to go. Presuming that you stay within your daughter's estate and care, and that you do not use magic." Bellatrix stared at them both.

"Are you insane?" She turned her glare to Rosella. "What were you thinking? What on earth would possess you to do something so stupid?" Rosella rolled her eyes.

"How can you even argue with me on this? Why would you want to stay here? You should be thanking me!" Bellatrix shook her head and glared at her daughter.

"Well then," Scrimgour motioned to the hallway, "shall we?"

"I think so," Rosella beamed. Bellatrix continued to glare at her daughter. "Don't you, Mother?" Rosella flipped her hair.

"If we must." Bellatrix sighed. Scrimgour took them into one of the visiting rooms, which were used for visitors not thought of as dangerous. He nodded to the bowl on the table.

"That's the portkey, it'll take you back to the room of your choice at your home." He looked at Rosella. Rosella nodded.

"Thank you again, Minister."

"Of course. You know where to find me should you need anything else." Rosella placed her hand on the bowl and raised an eyebrow at her mother.

"Coming?"

"Do I have a choice?" Bellatrix eyes gleamed at her daughter in the dim light.

"No." Rosella nodded to the bowl. Bellatrix placed her hand on the edge.


	6. Home Sweet Home

Rosella felt as though she were falling, the world spinning around her. When her feet hit the ground, she was in the room she'd selected-the master bedroom at her own mansion. Across from her, Bellatrix steadied herself against one of the bedposts and worked to catch her breath. When her breathing eased, she looked across the room at her daughter. For the first time, standing in the bright, late morning sunlight, mother and daughter were free to look at each other in light bright enough to really examine the other.

Bellatrix looked her daughter up and down. Rosella was tall, with thick shining black hair that fell down her back and was held out of her face by some sort of ornate gold comb. Her robes appeared to be black velvet. They had a delicate, double gold embroidery along the hems and in between the two lines were tiny red flowers with green leaves. Around her neck was a string of what appeared to be black pearls and there were thin silver hoops in her ears. Studying the young woman, Bellatrix realized she was looking into the face of her late husband. Bellatrix thought that if Rodolphus had had a sister, this is what she would have looked like.

Rosella's eyes fell first on her mother's hair. The underside was mostly black, but the top part was entirely white and gray. The sides were pulled close over her face and Bellatrix was watching her through them. Her eyes didn't gleam with the fanatical madness Rosella had always remembered, but they were cold and uninterested. Yet in them, Rosella sensed a challenge, as though her mother were daring her to move or speak. The only other word to describe her mother was dirty. Her face, her hands, her prison robes, were coated with dirty-and in some cases, Rosella noticed, blood. Rosella decided it would have to be her who spoke first.

"Well, here we are." She gestured around the room. Bellatrix looked around.

"The master bedroom," she turned, taking in the room and running her hand over the white quilt with the small red patterned design on it.

"Yes. Theo and I built onto the other side of the house. We kept this one as in tact as we could. I did redecorate, of course. Do you like it, Mother?"

"Very nice." Bellatrix looked back at Rosella.

"Good, good!" Rosella moved from where she'd been standing. "And look," she went to the wardrobe, "I bought dozens of new robes for you. I thought they were beautiful. And here," Rosella went to the dressing table and opened a jewelry box on it. "It's your jewelry. It's all here. Aunt Narcissa kept it for me. I didn't feel right taking it with you still being alive and all. So it's yours. See?" Rosella held out a silver chain with a diamond and black onyx butterfly flapping on it. "And here," Rosella put the chain back inside, "here are your wedding bands." She held out the rings. "Do you want them?"

"Perhaps later," Bellatrix waved them away. She eyed her daughter thoughtfully. "How old are you?" Rosella sighed.

"I'm thirty, Mother. I'll be thirty one in April. I told you that."

"Of course you did. And you're married."

"Yes, to Theodore Nott." Rosella realized now she might as well have stayed home all of those times she was rushing to Azkaban.

"No children?"

"No."

"Why not? You're young."

"I haven't thought so much about it yet." Rosella said idly. "I'm not sure I want any."

"By the time I was your age I had you and was in Azkaban." Rosella forced herself to smile.

"Well, then I guess it's best I'm not you, isn't it?" Bellatrix smiled softly. The action amazed the younger woman, as she had expected her mother to play off of her comment.

"You were just a child when I last saw you."

"You've seen me many times since then."

"Well, the only time I remember."

"I was seventeen when you were rearrested, that's not a child."

"It really makes no difference to me."

"I'm certain it doesn't." Rosella sighed and closed the jewelry box. "You'll forgive me for trying to help, Mother."

"I didn't ask for your help, so you shouldn't expect me to be grateful. Life lesson number one, Rosella."

"I think I've learned quite enough lessons for one life time, and I doubt there's anything you have to teach me." Rosella started for the door. "I'm going to look into lunch, I'll bring it up when it's ready. Make yourself at home." The door closed behind her. Bellatrix shook her head.

"Technically, it's my home." A voice somewhere in Bellatrix head wanted to know why she was being so hard with Rosella. It wasn't as if it was Rosella's fault that Bellatrix life had fallen apart.

Now alone, Bellatrix examined the bedroom. It was a large, well furnished room with a queen sized four poster bed, a balcony off of French doors and a private bath to the left of the French doors. The fireplace was trimmed with ivy that draped down the sides of the mantel piece. On the mantel sat a small mahogany clock and on either side of it was a silver picture frame. Bellatrix crossed to the mantel and picked up the pictures. The first was of a young Bellatrix and Narcissa, and the other was of the two with their other sister, Andromeda. Bellatrix studied the picture. Andromeda was probably still alive, Bellatrix didn't really know about Narcissa. She hadn't seen her sister in ages. Narcissa never visited her, not that Bellatrix had been expecting her to.

Bellatrix replaced the pictures and spotted another on the nightstand to the left of the bed. When she picked it up, she found a picture of a young Rodolphus and herself, with an infant Rosella. The young couple in the picture paid her no attention, they were too busy playing with their baby. Bellatrix couldn't believe the look on her young image's face. The woman laughed, teased and played with her baby affectionately. Bellatrix couldn't believe that once, long ago, she had been a proud mother.

Bellatrix hurriedly put the picture down and pushed it back so it wouldn't be as obvious. She went to the wardrobe and ran her hands over the elegant fabrics. Her daughter appeared to have inherited her sister's tastes. Bellatrix wondered faintly what her daughter's taste would have been if she had raised her instead of Narcissa. Bellatrix took a simple black silk dressing gown from the wardrobe and went into the bathroom. Once inside, she turned the water in the bathtub hotter than she could stand it and eased in. Her skin tingled and turned from pink to red in seconds. She liked the heat. The burning sensation was the first real sensation she'd felt in years. The steam made her cough and her lungs ache. Dirt seemed to seep from every pore, from under her finger nails and from her hair. Bellatrix let her head fall against the porcelain of the tub. Her eyes closed and she slid lower into the water.

_"Bellatrix, you don't have time for this." _

_"Well, then I'll have to find time." Bellatrix shoved the last of her daughter's clothing, well, the last that held, into a bag and frowned. "Damn! This is all I can fit and I can't take another bag! I'll have to leave her toys." _

_"The Ministry will let the Malfoys into the house to gather her things." _

_"I can't take that chance." _

_"Bella, there's no time." Rodolphus was standing in the doorway, looking nervously from his wife to the crib. "There's no time. Leave her. The Aurors won't hurt her." _

_"I won't take that chance! And even if they don't kill her, they might do what they did with the Potter boy! And I won't have her raised by Muggles!" _

_"Our family has no Muggles to give her to." _

_"No, but we have Blood Traitors! And I won't have her raised by Andromeda and that Muggle she married!" Bellatrix shifted the bag over her shoulder and reached over to pick up the baby. "Come, Rosella, come darling. It'll be all right." Bellatrix gathered the baby into her arms. _

_"Bella, wait," Rodolphus reached for his wife's arm. "Let me say goodbye, at least." He reached for the baby. Bellatrix sighed, and reluctantly handed over the baby. _

_"Be quick about it!" Bellatrix hissed as she looked towards the hallway. Rodolphus took the baby and kissed her. _

_"Goodbye, Rosa. And I'll see you when the Dark Lord returns. Hopefully that won't be too long." Rodolphus smiled, taking one of the baby's hands. A loud bang from downstairs made all three of them jump. The baby whimpered. _

_"Give her to me!" Bellatrix grabbed the baby from his arms and drew her wand. "Tell them where I went, I'll be back soon." And she apparated herself from the nursery, only to appear on the doorstep of the Malfoy home. Anxiously, she knocked on the door, and when no one responded, she pounded harder. The door opened to reveal a bewildered Narcissa. _

_"Bella, what's the matter?" _

_"Quick, I don't have much time. Cissy, they know." Narcissa gasped. _

_"Oh Bella." _

_"I know, I know. You have to take her, she'll be safe with you." _

_"Bella, but-." _

_"Please Narcissa, I'm desperate!" Bellatrix was pleading now and on the verge of tears. "You have to take her! I can't risk anyone harming her!" _

_"Bellatrix, what's wrong?" Lucius appeared in the hallway behind his wife. _

_"The Ministry knows, they know what we did. They're coming for us, tonight. You absolutely have to take Rosella. You have to protect her." Narcissa looked nervously at Lucius. He nodded. _

_"We'll take her. You don't have to worry." Bellatrix nodded. _

_"Thank you." Bellatrix set the baby's bag down on the floor. She shifted Rosella in her arms. "I'm going to leave you with your aunt and uncle, Darling. And everything's going to be all right, I promise. I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise." Bellatrix kissed her daughter and handed her to Narcissa. _

_"It'll be all right, Bella." Narcissa nodded. "Don't worry." _

_"I won't," Bellatrix ran a hand over her daughter's hair. "Wait, here, give her this, when she's older." Bellatrix reached up to unhook a silver locket around her neck and pressed it into her sister's hand. "I've got to go." And with that, she apparated back to the Lestrange estate. Rodolphus was waiting for her in the front hall. _

_"Bella, we have guests." He nodded to the four Aurors in the parlor. Bellatrix swallowed hard and nodded. _

_"All right then." _

"Mother!" A knock on the door awakened Bellatrix. She sat up and ran a handful of water over her face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Bellatrix was groggy from her dream. She carefully got out of the tub and dressed. She opened the door to find Rosella placing a silver tray on the small tea table in the corner. "Don't you have house elves to do that?"

"Yes, but I'd prefer they clean my house rather than do my cooking." Rosella sat down in one of the chairs and motioned across the table. Bellatrix sat across from her. "It's nothing impressive." Rosella poured herself a cup of tea and nodded to the food. "But it's healthy." Bellatrix nodded and cautiously took the tea cup Rosella held out to her. Bellatrix dropped two pieces of lemon into it. Rosella looked interested.

"Two lemons?" Bellatrix nodded.

"Force of habit." She looked up at her daughter. "Do you still have the locket?" Rosella raised an eyebrow.

"_The_ locket?" She asked, her tone indicating confirmation of some particular locket. Bellatrix met her eyes.

"_The_ locket." Rosella smiled, unhooked her pearls, laid them on the table and drew her wand. Placing her wand on her throat she stated:

"_Revealo." _Slowly, a fine silver chain appeared around her neck and finally a silver oval shaped locket appeared at the end of it. "This locket?" Rosella asked confidently.

"Yes, that's it." Bellatrix looked at the locket around her daughter's neck. Rosella held it out in front, examining it.

"I wear it all the time. But of course, it doesn't always match everything." Rosella smoothed the chain.

"Of course it doesn't." Bellatrix played with the food in front of her. "So…"

"So?"

"So what exactly did you have to do to get me released?" Bellatrix tasted the food in front of her and looked at her daughter, giving her a questioning look.

"Excuse me?" Rosella sipped her tea, delicately placing the cup on the table.

"You heard me. What exactly did you have to do to win yourself such favor with Minister Scrimgeour?" Bellatrix smirked. Rosella shook her head.

"Not what you're thinking. I don't know why Scrimgeour took such a liking to me." Rosella idly twirled her hair. "He always has been found of me. Ever since I was a teenager. Besides, I could ask what you'd done to win yourself such favor with the Dark Lord." Bellatrix rolled her eyes.

"You're like your aunt. Everyone wants to do things for you. It's a shame she didn't teach you to take care of yourself."

"Who says she didn't?" Rosella looked angrily at her mother. "I can take care of myself. I don't need handouts." Bellatrix shrugged and looked down at the table.

"Of course you don't."

"Why do you do this to me?" Rosella asked, frustrated. "Why do you complain about the way I was raised? You do realize that if you hadn't gotten yourself sent to Azkaban, we wouldn't have this problem."

"Perhaps not," Bellatrix leaned back in her chair. "It's not that it matters anymore, you are who you are."

"And I am a horrible disappointment to you, aren't I, Mother?"

"Well, I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Rosella sighed. "You say it by not looking at me, by not listening to me. I don't know why I wasted my time visiting you, or worrying about what happened to you, it's not like you ever extended me the same courtesy." Rosella got up from her chair. "Do you know what, Mother? Even after everything that happened, with everything that was said and done, all my life I wanted nothing more than to be like my murdering, Death Eater Mother." She crossed the room swiftly and yanked open the door, letting it slam shut behind her. Bellatrix sat still for a long time. The voices in her head grew louder.

_Why do you do that to her? She loves you. How can you treat your child that way? _Bellatrix smiled. It wasn't her fault Rosella was dumb enough to love her.


End file.
